


The Old House on Oak Street

by Winter_Queen99



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Character Death, Flashbacks, Ghost Stories, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Implied Relationships, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Character Death, References to Homophobia, Time Skips, Vague Time Periods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_Queen99/pseuds/Winter_Queen99
Summary: Every town has a story. A local legend to tell others around the campfire when it's your turn for a spooky story, or even a tall tale to tell your kids when you need them to behave. Sometimes these stories spread far and wide. Other times, the only people who know these stories are the ones who live in the town they originate from.In this town, there is the story of the old house on Oak Street.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Hwang Hyunjin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 45





	The Old House on Oak Street

**Author's Note:**

> THERE IS VIOLENCE IN THIS STORY!! IF YOU WANT TO SKIP THE VIOLENCE AND THE DEATH THEN SKIP THE PART THAT STARTS AT "More scenes play out." UNTIL "'How could someone do this?'"
> 
> IT ISN'T NECESSARILY GRAPHIC, BUT IF I NEED TO CHANGE THE RATING THEN PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I WILL UPDATE THE RATING AND THE TAGS!!!

Every town has a story. A local legend to tell others around the campfire when it's your turn for a spooky story, or even a tall tale to tell your kids when you need them to behave. Sometimes these stories spread far and wide. Other times, the only people who know these stories are the ones who live in the town they originate from.

For this town, the local legend revolves around one house. An unassuming, two story house, at the end of Oak Street, that might’ve been painted a baby blue once upon a time. The windows are dusty, but intact, and the doors are still in perfect condition. The house is empty, and has been empty for as long as anyone on Oak Street can remember.

No one even remembers who owns the old house at the end of Oak Street. But no one dares try to enter the house, even if the doors are never locked and the windows can easily open. Because strange things happen in that house.

Music plays sometimes. Something light and flowing, mostly guitar, with a soothing melody and lyrics you can’t quite make out. Sometimes the front door will be open, almost like it’s inviting you to walk in.

And sometimes…

Sometimes you can hear voices from inside the house.

Sometimes they’re quiet. Whispers of a story in the past. Sometimes they’re loud. Screaming matches that you can’t make out, but you can feel the anger all the same.

So there’s a house.

A house at the end of Oak Street, and this is where the story begins.

.- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / - .... . .-. .

“Do you think someone lives there now? And we just keep missing them?”

The question is asked by a male with curly blonde hair that’s starting to fray at the edges from one too many bleachings. Although the fried blonde hair should clash with his pale skin, it instead makes it look like he’s glowing in the late afternoon sun.

He’s standing at the edge of the sidewalk in front of the old house on Oak Street. Behind him stands his group of friends, all nervously clutching the rubber handles of their bikes. The one closest to the blonde, a male with silver hair and a healing cut on the bridge of his nose, shakes his head. 

“No one lives there, Chan. No one has lived there for years,” he says.

The blonde, Chan, looks away from the dusty windows to the silver headed boy. “But what if that isn’t true, Minho,” Chan stresses out, “what if we’ve all been lied to.”

“We haven’t been lied to,” Minho says while rolling his eyes.

“But how do you know,” Chan stresses.

No one answers him, and his dark eyes find their way back to the dusty windows. “Because if anyone did live there, then they’ve probably stopped living there from all the dust that’s been piled up on those windows,” Minho finally says.

Chan shrugs. “Dinner?” He asks instead, turning back to the group.

They all nod with relieved smiles on their faces. Chan watches as they push off to continue pedalling on their bikes. He waits until the last person has passed him before he begins heading after the group. He trusts that they know the way to his house.

-.-. .- -. / -.-- --- ..- / .... . .- .-. / -- .

Minho won’t ever admit it, but sometimes when he’s standing at the end of the driveway that leads to the house on Oak Street, he’ll feel like he’s being called inside. Like something is telling him to walk down the driveway and push open the graying door. 

Luckily, his common sense is louder than that voice, and he’ll turn away and keep making his way down the street instead.

But sometimes, he wonders what would happen if he ever did take that first step. Would he be the first one who stepped foot into the old house? Would he find that someone was occupying the space? 

Would he find a dead body?

There’s so many possibilities, and sometimes he is dying to know which possibility he would find inside. But no one has ever stepped foot into that house, and Minho thinks that should be a sign that no one ever should.

But he knows there’s something strange about that house. So when Chan tells him one night that sometimes he dreams of that house, Minho can believe him. When Chan tells him about voices he can’t place and faces with features he can’t quite remember, Minho doesn’t think it’s strange. Instead, it fills him with an icy fear, and even more of a belief that nothing good comes out of that house.

But the silver headed male still doesn’t want Chan to worry. Doesn’t want the male to worry about anything other than getting his degree and leaving this town that has always been too small for him and his dreams. So he tells Chan to forget about it. Tells Chan to stop worrying about the old house.

 _“It’s just a house,”_ he tells him. _“There is nothing that a house can do.”_

But sometimes Minho really wonders if it is just a house. Or if there is something else to the rumors that surrounded the house. Something else to the whispers that float through the town about things that used to happen there.

 _“There was a couple,”_ his grandmother had told him on one of her clear days. _“They were a lovely couple, I wonder what had happened to them.”_

Minho never got the chance to ask her more about the couple before she lost her mind and later, her life. 

“Are you ok, Minho hyung?” Someone asks him, breaking the boy with silver hair out of his thoughts.

He turns away from the house he had been staring at to look at his companion instead. The fading pink hair catches in the sunlight, creating a warm glow. His mouth is pulled into a wary frown as his eyes focus solely on Minho.

Minho wills his mind and body to relax, tells himself there is no need to worry anyone else. He can keep his thoughts and feelings to himself. “I’m fine,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about me Jeongin.”

The boy, Jeongin, just shrugs. “You were staring intently at the house. I was worried that you would do something stupid.”

Minho chuckles and shakes his head. He wraps an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders and tugs the younger closer. “Don’t worry. I’m not stupid enough to even think about stepping foot into that house.”

He allows himself to look at it one more time. “But we should head out. Make sure we didn’t lose Changbin and Seungmin somewhere.”

Jeongin nods, and this time it’s him pulling Minho along. Minho allows the younger to lead him away from the house that calls to him.

-.-. .- -. / -.-- --- ..- / .... . .-.. .--. / -- . 

As much as the others would like to believe, Jeongin is neither an idiot or oblivious. He knows about the stories of the old Oak Hill house. He knows about the way it haunts his older friends, and he also knows how much they try to escape it.

But Jeongin isn’t foolish enough to ever think about walking into the old abandoned house. Instead, he watches from the sidelines and sees what happens. And then, when everyone seems to be too far into their thoughts, he allows himself to be the one to pull them out. Be the one to bring them back to reality.

Because even if he doesn’t know what’s happening in that house, he refuses to let anything happen to his friends. 

“I hate that this is the only way to get to Chan’s house,” Jeongin’s companion grumbles as they walk pass the fading blue house.

Jeongin hums, but doesn't say anything. Which just leads to a louder groan. “And you’re not even paying attention to me,” they cry.

Jeongin hides his smile. “You’re just overreacting Felix,” he says with a laugh.

Felix pouts, Jeongin can just see it from the corner of his eyes. He sees Felix’s eyes widen, his lips jut out, and even the way his orange hair falls more into his eyes to make the look even more pathetic. Jeongin refuses to acknowledge Felix any longer.

“Innie,” Felix whines out when he sees Jeongin start walking without him.

Jeongin ignores the older, but a smile does grace his features when he feels Felix drape himself over Jeongin’s back. He still might be whining, and it might make it harder for Jeongin to actually walk, but at least he’s not focusing on the old house anymore.

.. .----. -- / .-.. --- ... -

Felix might not have always grown up near the house at the end of Oak Street, but he’s lived around it long enough to be wary of the two story house with fading blue paint. He can’t place his finger on it, but there is something almost sinister that lies within that house. An echo of something long before that wasn’t good and pure.

The first time he passed by that house he remembers breaking down and sobbing on the sidewalk. He remembers the way that everyone had freaked out, and how he couldn’t explain why he was crying. Just that there was something devastating in the air and Felix couldn’t fight against it.

 _“You’ve always been more sensitive to things,”_ his mother would tell him.

He wonders if she knew that it wasn’t just emotions that Felix was more sensitive with. He wonders if he should ever tell his friends about the impressions that lay within the old house at the end of Oak Street. 

But sometimes, when they pass by and he gets a good look at them, he thinks that they know anyway.

“Felix, come on. We’re gonna be late,” the redhead in front of him calls out.

He’s sitting on his bike, both feet planted on the sidewalk to balance him as he waits with another boy with an undercut. Felix realizes with a start that he had unconsciously stopped at the driveway to the old house. “Sorry,” he calls out. “I’ll be right there Seungmin and Changbin hyung.”

The redhead nods while the boy with an undercut rolls his eyes. Felix would say something, but he’s used to Changbin’s attitude by now. He gives one last glance to the house with the dusty windows before moving forward again. 

It’s better to keep moving forward anway.

.. .----. -- / ... -.-. .- .-. . -..

Changbin and Seungmin are rarely ever seen without the other. One dresses in collared shirts and sweater vests. He always looks put together, especially with a bright smile on his face. The only thing that doesn’t fit his image is the unruly dyed red hair that sits on his head.

The other is his complete opposite. Blue dyed hair with an undercut. Pierced ears and even debating a nose ring. His closet seems to only consist of leather jackets and ripped jeans. His eyes are harsh and his lips are usually pulled into a frown. 

And yet, his eyes always soften with just one look at the redhead usually by his side.

No one understands them, but no one says anything. Because they know if they do, they will probably be introduced to the metal bat that leans against the wall next to Changbin’s bed even though he has never played baseball in his life.

It’s a small town. People talk, but if anyone were to mess with Seungmin or any other one of Changbin’s friends then it wouldn’t be pretty.

But even then, that old house on Oak Street can send more fear into Changbin’s heart than anyone’s lingering stare or grimace ever could.

 _“My mother told me that something bad happened there,”_ Seungmin had said one night during high school.

Changbin had hummed to show he was listening, but now he wonders if Seungmin’s mother could have been right. 

Could something terrible have happened at that unassuming house. And was it bound to happen again? 

Changbin doesn't want to know that answer. He just wants to finish his schooling, take Seungmin by the hand, and drag him somewhere far away.

Though, if by the way Seungmin eyes the house and then Changbin, he doesn’t think it will take much convincing to take Seungmin away.

-.. --- / -.-- --- ..- / .... . .- .-. / .. -

Today there is someone new sitting on the sidewalk in front of the old house on Oak Street. His orange hair, almost the same color as Felix’s, glints dully in the sunlight. He’s sitting so he’s turned to look at the house. He’s hunched over, elbows on his knees and fingers digging at the grass and dirt at the edge of the sidewalk. The grass, untouched for weeks at a time before mysteriously being mowed, easily covers his hands.

The group of friends on their way back to Chan’s house stops in their tracks. Chan pushes his way to the front, followed closely by Minho. The others huddle together, but don’t move any closer than they already were. They know to follow Chan’s lead in moments like these.

“Hello?” The blonde calls out cautiously to the person he’s never seen before.

The newcomer startles, his eyes widening when he makes eye contact with Chan. His face transforms from something serene to something startled, almost like a squirrel caught in the wild. “Oh, hi,” the stranger says timidly.

“Are you new here?” Chan asks.

The stranger looks from the group to the old house before he shrugs. “Yeah, I just moved in.”

Chan nods. “What’s your name?”

“Jisung,” the stranger says, looking back at Chan. “My name is Han Jisung.”

He doesn’t move closer or move like he’s going to stand up. He’s content just sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the grass again.

“It’s nice to meet you Jisung-ssi. If you don’t mind me asking, what is your age?” Chan asks again.

“Oh. I’m 20,” Jisung answers easily.

“Oh, that means your mine and Seungmin’s age,” Felix shouts excitedly.

Chan looks back at him once, but quickly turns his gaze back to Jisung who is looking at them with a fond smile on his lips. “Really?” He says.

His eyes are shining with excitement, his smile bright as he finally moves to stand up. The grass doesn’t move once he retracts his hands.

“It’s nice to meet you then,” he says.

He doesn’t reach for a hand shake, in fact he doesn’t really come any closer to the group. Chan watches him with a curious gaze, but doesn’t say anything. “What are you doing here?” Chan asks instead.

Most people know to avoid this house; even the people who move in seem to sense that this is not a place to relax. And yet this stranger seems to move with ease; almost like he isn’t afraid of what this house could be hiding.

“Resting. I was walking around to try and figure out the land, but I got tired,” Jisung replies easily.

“Well you shouldn’t rest here,” Minho speaks for the first time. “In fact, you should never linger around this house.”

Jisung tilts his head to the side, an inquisitive look taking over his facial features. “Why?”

“It’s bad news,” Felix tells him. “Weird things happen here. It’s better to just move on from it quickly.”

Jisung nods, but he still doesn’t look convinced. “Ok,” he says, “thank you for letting me know.”

It’s only then, that Chan realizes they haven’t introduced themselves to Jisung. “Oh, I’m Chan by the way. It’s only fair to give you my name since you told us yours.”

Jisung smiles. “Oh.”

The rest of the group introduces themselves to Jisung. The newcomer finally moves closer to them. “I like your bikes,” he says sincerely.

“Oh, thank you.” Chan looks down at the dark blue bike in his hands with the worn down seat and rubber handles that are slowly chipping away. The bike has seen better days, but Chan can’t find it in himself to give it up. 

“I wish I could have one,” Jisung says almost wistfully.

“You don’t have a bike?” Jeongin asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “No. We couldn’t bring it in the move,” he trails off his eyes going misty like he’s remembering something. “But it’s fine. I don’t mind walking.”

Chan looks at Jisung for a few more seconds. “We’re heading to my house to hang out. Did you want to come?”

Jisung looks startled, then a little fearful before he smiles. “Sure. That sounds really cool!”

Chan smiles and allows Minho to take the lead. Once again he finds himself falling behind the rest of the group, but his eyes stay focused on Jisung instead of anyone else.

-.. --- / -.-- --- ..- / ... . . / -- . / .- ... / .. / .- --

Minho’s not stupid. He can tell there’s something more to Jisung than he’s letting on. But he figures it’s probably from the stress of moving somewhere new. Maybe he had bad experiences where he lived before.

Maybe that’s why he’s jumpy around crowds up people, screams when he hears loud noises, and absolutely hates the dark. Maybe his parents are strict and that’s why he never stays later than sunset, or eats any food with the rest of the group.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t understand electronics and video games.

But that doesn’t mean Minho isn’t going to keep his eye on the boy with the fading orange hair. Something in his gut tells him to watch him. And that’s what he’s going to do.

 _“You feel it too,”_ Chan had whispered one night after Minho had snuck into the olders bed. _“There’s something off about him.”_

And Minho, too tired to form coherent sentences, had only nodded then.

There was something strange about Jisung, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

.. / .-- .. ... .... / -.-- --- ..- / -.- -. . .--

Sometimes Felix will look at Jisung and just feel the need to cry, other times he’s filled with so much love that he can’t quite contain it. He doesn’t understand why he feels this way, but it makes him want to wrap Jisung into a hug and never let him go.

The only problem falls in the way that Jisung will shy away from skinship. He once told Felix that he feels uncomfortable with people touching him, and Felix had respected his space. If Jisung doesn’t want to be touched, then he won’t force himself into Jisung’s personal space.

“Why did you move here?” Felix asks one night as they’re star gazing in the backyard of Chan’s house.

Jisung doesn’t look away from the sky. “I guess we just wanted a fresh start. Somewhere to settle down,” he says quietly.

“Where did you live before?” Felix asks.

“The city. In a tiny apartment that barely fit us. We figured we could buy a house because it would have enough rooms and space for everything we needed,” Jisung says almost wistfully. “Sometimes I wish we were back in that apartment though.”

Felix turns his gaze to Jisung. “But then you wouldn’t have met us,” he says to try and cheer the other up.

Jisung slowly meets Felix’s gaze. “I guess that’s true,” he says with a strained smile. “It’s kind of nice to meet other people who want to talk with me.”

Felix doesn’t ask him to elaborate. He just turns his gaze back up to the sky.

.. / .-- .. ... .... / .. / -.- -. . .-- / .-- .... --- / - --- / - .-. ..- ... -

It’s not that Changbin doesn’t trust Jisung, it’s more that when the younger comes near him Changbin gets a feeling. It’s not necessarily bad feelings, but they also aren’t good feelings. So Changbin starts bringing his baseball bat outside of his house more. 

Seungmin rolls his eyes whenever he sees the metal bat clutched in Changbin’s grip, but he doesn’t say anything. No one actually says anything, but he does notice how Jisung stares warily at the bat whenever he sees it.

“Changbin won’t attack you,” Seungmin says one day when he sees Jisung flinch one too many times.

“I know that,” Jisung says, but his voice still comes out strained. “I just have some bad experiences with baseball bats.”

Seungmin looks at him, but when he sees the way Jisung is slightly shaking, he lets the subject drop. He just takes Changbin’s hand and moves him away from the other. Maybe it would be best if they don’t come too near the newcomer. 

_“Don’t you think it’s strange?”_ Changbin asks one night as they curl up in Seungmin’s bed.

 _“What is?”_ Seungmin whispers back.

 _“The way that we don’t really know anything about Jisung. We don’t even know where he lives now.”_ Changbin had whispered back.

And maybe it is strange, Seungmin thinks. But at that point in time, he doesn’t care. He just wants to curl up in Changbin’s arms and refuse to think about anything strange. Everything is ok now.

.. / .... .- - . / - .... .- - / -.-- --- ..- / -... . - .-. .- -.-- . -.. / -- .

The strangest thing, Jeongin thinks, happens when he’s walking through town with Jisung alone. The other is hunched up, almost burying himself in the sweatshirt he always seems to wear. It’s almost like he wants to hide from the crowds around him.

“Jeongin,” one of the older residents calls out to him. 

He stops, giving her a smile. “Hello Mrs. Lee,” he says politely. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing fine. And how are you?” She asks.

“I’m wonderful,” Jeongin says. He wonders how much longer he should talk to her in order to seem like he’s polite.

“And who’s your friend?” Mrs. Lee asks him, looking over his shoulder at who he presumes to be Jisung.

“Oh, this is Jisung. He moved in a few weeks ago.”

Jisung raises his head, but freezes once he catches Mrs. Lee’s eyes. A polite smile is frozen on his face. He doesn’t say anything, but strangely, Jeongin thinks, neither does Mrs. Lee.

“Jisung?” Her voice says quietly. “Have I met you before.”

Jeongin watches as Jisung’s eyes widen before he shakes his head quickly. “I don’t believe we have,” he tells her finally; his voice only a little hysteric.

“Hmm,” Mrs. Lee says. “You just look like someone I used to know, but that would’ve been years ago.”

Jisung can only nod before he turns his gaze from Mrs. Lee. Jeongin says goodbye to Mrs. Lee before focusing on Jisung’s trembling hands. He tries hard not to think about what is happening. 

.. .----. -- / --. --- .. -. --. / - --- / ..-. .. -. -.. / -.-- --- ..-

“The house has been quiet,” Chan says.

Chan and the rest of the group are huddled on the sidewalk once more, staring at the fading blue of the old house on Oak Street. The early morning sun barely peaks over the two story house.

Usually, Chan would be happy about that, but it’s been weeks. It’s unsettling, Chan thinks, something usually happens at least once a week. It could be something as small as the door being open, or light music floating through the air from inside. Or maybe it would be incoherent yelling, angry words flung around that no one can make it. But this time the house has just been empty. Almost like it’s a predator lying in wait.

“Are you sure it’s even haunted?” Jisung asks.

 _Of course he would ask that,_ Chan thinks, _the whole time he’s been here the house has been silent._

“Trust us,” Felix says before Chan can say anything, “there’s something off about that house.”

Jisung just shakes his head in a disbelieving manner. “Have you guys even explored the house?”

“No,” Minho says this time, “no one goes into that house.”

But Jisung isn’t listening, Chan notices. Instead, he’s staring at the house; his gaze almost… longing.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Jisung asks, almost to himself.

And before Chan can comprehend what the other means, he’s running down the driveway to the house. Felix, who has grown the closest to Jisung, shouts his name before chasing after him. Jeongin is only a step behind Felix.

“Guys!” Changbin yells before throwing his bike to the ground and making his own way down the driveway, Seungmin just behind him.

Chan is frozen, only able to watch as everyone disappears through the dark doorway. “Chan!” Minho shouts.

The bleached-blonde boy turns his frightened gaze to Minho. “I-” he cuts off, not knowing what to say.

“Come on!” Minho says. “We have to keep them safe.”

And then he’s making his way to the house. Chan is still frozen, until he notices the way that Minho’s hands shake. The way that the boy with silver hair and bruised knuckles is not making steady steps like he usually does. Instead, he’s terrified.

“Minho,” Chan says softly.

Minho doesn’t stop moving. “We have to,” the younger tells him. “We have to keep them safe.”

And that is what finally allows Chan to start moving. “Ok,” he says, catching up to Minho. 

He grabs the boy's hand tightly in his own. Minho looks at his face, his eyes wide and scared, but Chan just smiles at him. “Follow me,” he says quietly.

Hand in hand they step into the darkness together.

\- .... . / --. .... --- ... - ... / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / .... .- ..- -. - / ..- ...

Changbin has never been happier about having his baseball bat with him than he is right now. The cool metal is a familiar and comforting weight in one hand. His other hand is gripped tightly by Seungmin; almost like he's scared the older will leave him behind.

Changbin is gripping the younger’s hand just as tightly back. 

“Changbin,” Seungmin whispers.

Changbin squeezes his hand. “It’s ok,” Changbin whispers, trying to be comforting.

Or at least Changbin hopes and wishes for it to be ok. But they are trapped in some dark room in the back of the house. Changbin does not know how they got here, or why they can’t leave. Maybe it’s a trick done by the house. Maybe there’s something here the house wants them to know.

All he remembers is rushing inside. He remembers hastily grabbing Seungmin’s hand and shouting for his friends, but he doesn’t remember hearing anything back. And then they were in this room.

It looks like it could’ve been an office once upon a time. but the furniture is covered in white sheets, and the room itself is dusty enough to aggravate anyone's allergies. It looks like no one has been in this room for years. 

“What’s that?” Seungmin asks.

He’s pointing shakily at a lone photo frame sitting on top of a dusty white sheet in the shape of a desk. It looks out of place in a room that is hiding everything. And against better judgement, Changbin and Seungmin make their way to the frame. Changbin’s grip tightens on his bat as he lifts it, ready to attack anything that may come out after they pick up this picture.

Seungmin is the one to pick up the frame. And they both stare at the content inside. It’s a yellowing photograph. Slightly crinkled due to age. The subject of the picture is a laughing male, his eyes closed in glee. His nose is scrunched up and his mouth wide. His hair, probably blonde, is pulled into a ponytail. He looks young, probably only Seungmin’s age.

But more than that, he looks happy. It’s almost like they can feel the joy radiating from the photograph.

“Who is he?” Seungmin wonders outloud.

But there is no answer.

\- .... . / -.-. --- -. ...- . .-. ... .- - .. --- -. ... / ..-. .-. --- -- / -... . ..-. --- .-. .

“Jisung!” Felix shouts again, his voice coming out desperate.

“Felix!” Jeongin calls from behind him, but Felix doesn’t stop himself from running up the creaking staircase.

He needs to find Jisung. He has to protect Jisung, even if it means facing one of his greatest fears. Something grabs his arm once he’s reached the top of the stairs and blindly runs into one of the rooms. He’s yanked to a stop, his heart thundering loudly until he hears Jeongin speaking. “Felix, stop.”

“Jeongin, we have to find him,” Felix says earnestly.

“We don’t even know where we are,” Jeongin says with frustration clear in his voice. 

And it’s true. Felix doesn’t even know what room he rushed into. It’s only now that he’s allowing himself to look around. “Right, do you know where we are?” Felix asks.

Jeongin snorts, letting go of Felix’s arm. “You’re the one who ran in here. I’m just following you.”

Felix shakes his head, but he can feel his ears growing warmer due to embarrassment. He allows himself to catalogue what is in the room. The room is small, almost like it was meant to be a small bedroom, but there is no furniture that would suggest that. In fact, most of the room looks barren. Like nothing got unpacked before the tenants left. Or everything that was in here was the only thing to be taken out.

“What’s in the corner?” Jeongin asks.

Before Felix can stop him, or wonder when something in the corner showed up, the younger is already walking towards the item hiding in the shadows. Felix, reluctantly, follows after him. “Is that?” Felix starts to ask.

“Yeah,” Jeongin tells him, “it’s a guitar.”

What is a guitar doing in an empty house? Felix wants to ask, but the words don’t leave his mouth.

 _“Will you play for me?”_ And unknown voice asks instead.

Both Jeongin and Felix whirl around, but the room is still empty save the two of them. 

_“Oh come on. Please?”_ The same voice asks in a begging way.

Felix takes a step closer to Jeongin, his hand latching onto the younger’s. They make eye contact, Jeongin’s grip tightening. “Felix,” he whispers with wide eyes and a scared voice.

_“You never play for me anymore.”_

\- .... . / .--. .. -.-. - ..- .-. . ... / --- ..-. / ..- ...

Somehow, and Chan isn’t quite sure, Minho and him end up in a bedroom. The room is covered in dust, but the white sheets that he guesses were covering the furniture are haphazardly scattered on the floor. Almost like someone had thrown them away in a haste in order to search for what they needed.

Chan and Minho decided, since the door was locked, it was probably in their best interest to try and find a key or something else that would help them get out of this room. So they divided the room and started searching.

“Chan,” Minho calls out.

His voice is shaky and higher than usual. There’s an emotion in there, something between the words that Chan can’t make out.

“What?” He calls back, but he doesn’t stop digging through his side of the room.

“Chan, come here,” Minho calls out again with an urgency Chan has never heard from him before. 

The blonde turns away from the drawers he had been digging through, and instead makes his way to the silver headed boy. He spots a dusty picture frame tightly clenched in the other’s hands. Enough to make Minho’s bruised knuckles turn white. “Minho?” Chan calls out cautiously.

“Look at this,” Minho shoves the frame into Chan’s face. 

It takes a second for Chan’s eyes to adjust, but then he sees it.

He sees the smile first; heart shaped and stretching wide against chubby cheeks. From there, his eyes are able to take in the expressive dark eyes, glinting dully in the old photo. Then he’s able to see the faded green of the grass that must’ve just been trimmed, and the fingers digging into the dirt. Lastly, he sees the faded orange hair glowing in the sun.

Jisung stares back at Chan from the old photo.

“Please tell me I’m not crazy. That’s Jisung, right?” Minho pleads.

“But how?” Chan chokes out. “How is that Jisung?”

“Oh,” someone says from behind them.

They quickly turn and come face to face with the boy in the photo. His dark eyes, usually so expressive, are blank as he stares at the photo still clutched in Chan’s shaking hands. “I’ve always loved that photo.”

The frame falls; the glass shattering on impact. Chan is frozen, fingers limp as he stares at Jisung. 

Jisung just stares at the floor where you can see the yellowing edges of the photo peeking out from behind the glass. “ I was so happy that day,” Jisung muses. “And so in love.”

Minho grabs Chan’s hand with his own trembling fingers. It’s like a lifeline that Chan desperately latches onto. 

Jisung looks up, lifting his head and allowing the light that comes through the windows to illuminate his skin. Bile rises in Chan’s throat when the light catches the planes of Jisung’s face. His skin isn’t golden brown anymore. Instead, it’s deathly pale and a mosaic of bruises. His right eye has no white, just red and brown. Almost like all the blood vessels had popped and this was the result.

Chan wants to throw up. Minho tightens his hold on Chan’s hand while turning his own head away from the sight in front of them.

“Jisung,” Chan whimpers out.

Jisung ignores him. “I loved that photo,” he repeats.

He looks so young standing there, even with the bruises covering his face. Chan wonders what happened, but his tongue is a block of ice that is sticking to his lips. 

“We had just moved in,” Jisung says in a wistful voice. “We were happy and so in love.”

Finally, his eyes meet Chan’s. “I need to find him,” Jisung says, almost hysterically.

“Find who?” Chan asks, finally able to get words past his lips. He can feel Minho trembling next to him, and he pulls the younger closer to him. 

“Hyunjin,” Jisung says before he disappears.

\- .... . .-. . / .-- .- ... / .- / -.-. --- ..- .--. .-.. .

There’s a sliver of truth to any legend. Even those stories that hide in the dark and are only spoken around the firelight. And this story is no different. There has to be history in this old house on Oak Street. A reason why there is such grief covering this house, a reason why people avoid this house.

 _“There was a couple,”_ Minho remembers his grandmother telling him. _“They were a lovely couple, I wonder what had happened to them.”_

“Chan,” Minho whispers.

“The doors open. Let’s find everyone else,” Chan tells him.

“Chan,” Minho whispers again.

Chan looks at him, his eyes filled with conflicting emotions of fear and determination. “We need to get out of here, Minho.”

And Minho can’t argue with that, but his grandmother’s words keep replaying in his head. He wishes he had asked more about the couple when he had the chance. Maybe then he would be able to understand why Jisung’s face was a mosaic of bruises. Why he was so desperately searching for someone named Hyunjin. 

_“There was a couple… I wonder what happened to them.”_

Minho thinks he might be sick.

\- .... . .-. . / .-- .- ... / ..- ...

“You found it,” Jisung says suddenly.

Jeongin whirls around, almost tripping over his feet to see the other male. Felix and him are still in the same room, still clutching the guitar and each other’s hands. But how did Jisung get inside the room? They were staring at the door this whole time.

“Jisung?” Felix says quietly.

But Jisung isn’t looking at them. He’s staring at the guitar still clutched in Jeongin’s hand. He looks almost wistful, but Jeongin can’t be sure without seeing the other’s face. “I wish I would’ve played for him more,” Jisung says.

“Played for who more?” Jeongin asks.

When Jisung looks up, Jeongin isn’t surprised to see the changes. Not when he’s been putting the pieces together ever since he first showed up. “Hyunjin. Have you seen him?” Jisung asks.

Felix takes an unsteady step backwards, but Jeongin stays where he is. Frozen in place. He looks on with a morbid fascination as Jisung looks around the room. “They must’ve taken everything else from in here. It was filled with instruments.”

His smile is wistful, if not a little pained as he searches the empty room. “I’m surprised they didn’t take the guitar,” Jisung whispers.

Jeongin, working on autopilot, reaches out with the hand clutching the guitar. “Here,” he says quietly.

Jisung tilts his head, mismatched eyes meeting Jeongin’s own. There’s an emotion in his eyes that Jeongin can’t read. Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s gratitude. Jeongin doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to know. But he reaches out to wrap his hands around the neck of the guitar.

Felix whimpers when he sees the way the other’s fingers are twisted; like they’ve been broken. Jeongin knows that Jisung won’t be able to grab the guitar. Nothing would be able to survive in that grasp. “Jisung,” Felix says.

Before Jisung’s fingers can touch the old guitar strings, his head whips to the side. Almost like he heard something. “Hyunjin,” he whispers.

“Who’s Hyunjin?” Felix asks.

But Jisung is already gone by the time the last syllable falls from his mouth.

“The doors open. Let’s go find the others,” Jeongin says.

“Maybe we should leave the guitar here,” Felix says softly.

Jeongin doesn't even realize he was still holding onto the instrument, but he allows himself to lower it softly to the ground. He wants to know what’s happening.

.- -. -.. / .-- . / .-- . .-. . / -... . .- ..- - .. ..-. ..- .-..

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Someone asks from behind Changbin and Seungmin.

They turn their heads to look at Jisung, but Seungmin can only get a quick glance before he’s shoved behind Changbin. He can only watch as Changbin raises his bat; almost like he’s poised to attack Jisung.

“Jisung,” Changbin almost snarls out.

Seungmin doesn’t understand why Changbin is acting the way he is. Why he isn’t allowing Seungmin to move from behind him. But then he catches a glance of Jisung’s face, of the molten pattern of bruises on the one side. Of the blood mattered in the fading orange hair, and he allows himself to hide his face in Changbin’s shoulder.

“His name’s Hyunjin,” Jisung says like Changbin isn’t silently threatening him with a bat. “That’s my favorite picture of him. He looked so happy there.”

“What happened?” Changbin asks.

Seungmin can feel the tremors raking through Changbin’s body. But he can also hear the way Jisung’s breaths come out uneven, like he’s also terrified. He lifts his head from the shoulder and his heart almost shatters when he sees the distraught look on Jisung’s face. 

“I don’t know,” the other whispers. “But I have to find him.”

Then he’s gone and the door opens. Seungmin wastes no time to leave the room, his only thought to be finding his friends. He hears Changbin call out after him, but he doesn’t stop moving. Something isn’t right, and he needs to know.

“Slow down,” Changbin suddenly says from beside him. “I’m pretty sure we’ll find each other easier now.”

-... ..- - / - .... . -.-- / -.. .. -.. -. .----. - / ..- -. -.. . .-. ... - .- -. -..

They end up in the kitchen. 

It’s the most illuminated room in the house, probably because of the many windows that cover the walls. But no one cares, not when they’re crouched on the ground, their back pressed against the dusty cabinets. “I’m guessing we all saw then,” Chan says once they’ve gotten as comfortable as they can.

Everyone nods.

“What else did you guys figure out?” Chan asks.

“We found this,” Seungmin tells the group, putting a picture frame in the middle of the lopsided circle they’ve formed. Chan looks at the frame and the boy inside of it. He can almost feel the joy radiating from the picture itself. “Jisung said his name was Hyunjin, and that he needed to find him.”

“That’s what he told us too,” Felix says. “But Jeongin and I found a guitar in an old room. And we heard a voice before Jisung showed up. Almost like we were hearing the echo of a conversation from years ago.”

Jeongin nods. “And then Jisung showed up and he said he had to find Hyunjin. It almost seemed like he had heard him before disappearing.”

Chan nods. “That makes sense. That’s what he told us after we found a picture of him. Said they were so in love and so happy. And that the picture was from when they first moved in.”

“Who was he in love with? Hyunjin?” Seungmin asks.

Minho grabs Chan’s hands once more. Trembling fingers rubbing against his knuckles. He wonders if Minho needs more comfort, but when he tries to wrap an arm around Minho’s shoulders, the younger shies away.

“My grandmother told me something on one of her clear days before she passed away,” Minho tells the group. “She told me how there used to be a couple who lived here. A lovely couple and that she never knew what happened to them.”

This time, Chan latches himself onto Minho who doesn’t push him away. Instead, he seems to melt into the embrace. “Do you think...” Jeongin starts. “Do you think she was talking about Jisung and Hyunjin?”

Chan wants to answer, but something is glinting in the sunlight on the counter above Seungmin and Changbin’s heads, and he’s in a trance. “Seungmin,” he calls softly. “What’s on the counter?”

Seungmin turns his head slowly until he too sees what is glinting. A shaky hand reaches up to grab the object off the counter. And once his fingers wrap around it and bring it to eye level, Seungmin shouts before dropping it on the floor.

A knife covered in dried blood rests next to his and Changbin’s feet. “What?” He starts to ask, but the question never gets finished. 

Instead, the sunlight seems to grow stronger until everything suddenly gets dark.

.. / .-.. --- ...- . -.. / -.-- --- ..-

There’s a story hidden in the legend of the old house on Oak Street that has been buried throughout the years. And it’s this story that holds the real horrors of what actually happened. 

_“Do you like it?”_ A male with his blonde hair pulled into a ponytail asks. His arms are wrapped around someone’s waist, his chin resting on their shoulder.

 _“It’s beautiful,”_ the person whispers.

They’re standing in the driveway, a moving truck next to them. It’s dark out, but there’s enough light to see what’s in front of them. A light blue, two story house stands out in the darkness.

A new home for them to call their own. A place with enough space for Jisung’s musical instruments and Hyunjin’s designs. A place for them to decorate and call their own. And they couldn’t be happier. 

“Luckily, our siblings got here before us, and the bedroom is already unpacked,” the blonde whispers in the shorter’s ear. “So let’s get inside and get to sleep.”

The shorter nods, untangling himself from the taller boy before grabbing the other’s hand and pulling him toward the doorway. They step inside the dark house; unknowing of what is to come.

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

“Where are we?” Minho whispers once he can see one more. 

He’s happy to feel Chan’s arms around him still and to be able to see the rest of the boys. But the rest of the house does not look the same anymore. There is no dust on the countertops, the windows are wide open with soft white curtains moving in the slight breeze. There’s fruit on the counter, and light music floating in the air.

It’s unnerving, but for once, Minho doesn’t feel terror inside of this house. It just feels like a home.

 _“Jisung?”_ Someone calls from outside the kitchen.

The music stops. Minho can hear something being set down and then footsteps. _“You’re back already, Hyunjin?”_

It’s Jisung. Minho would be able to recognize that voice anywhere now. Everyone slowly stands and faces the staircase that they can halfway see from the opening of the kitchen. They see black fuzzy socks with pink stripes first, and then blue jeans and a plaid shirt. Then it’s Jisung standing on the bottom step. 

His vibrant orange hair glows in the artificial light, but his smile seems to glow more. His eyes are bright as he stares at someone the rest of the group can’t see. He looks younger, much younger than he ever did before even though he must still only be 20. But maybe it’s just the happiness that is radiating off him in strong waves that causes him to look that way.

_“I got everything I needed. Plus, Mai Lee was heavily flirting with me again, and I just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.”_

The person, Hyunjin steps into view. He’s taller than they expected, and more beautiful than the picture suggested. He has honey golden skin, blonde hair, and a mole under his eyes. His lips are pulled into a loving smile, and his hands are filled with bags. _“I’m going to put these away, but don’t forget you promised to play for me today.”_

Minho freezes as Hyunjin turns and makes his way into the kitchen. But he doesn’t seem to notice the group of strangers standing around the center island. Instead, he moves around like he can’t seem them at all. Almost like they really aren’t here.

“Do you think he can see us?” Jeongin whispers.

“No,” Chan tells him. “Because this has already happened. We’re not actually here.”

Minho stares at Chan who’s own gaze is locked on Hyunjins as the other rummages through the fridge to put away groceries. “This is actually what happened,” Chan says. “This is the true story of the old house on Oak Street.”

The memory seems to freeze after the last syllable, but no one can say anything more because the blinding light is back again.

.- -. -.. / - .... . -.-- / .... .- - . -.. / .. -

The real horror does not lie with the couple of the house. Not when they were so in love and happy. But people talk, and this town was no different. 

_“They’re monsters,”_ someone whispered. _“They’ll ruin the town.”_

 _“Do you see how he keeps rejecting my daughter? He’s already been ruined. There is no saving him,”_ someone else had said.

 _“We need to get rid of them,”_ someone told the group.

And it was with that thought in mind that a plan had started to form.

-.-- --- ..- / ... .- .. -.. / -. --- - / - --- / .-- --- .-. .-. -.--

They’re not in the kitchen this time. Instead, they’re in the bedroom that Chan and Minho had started in. Once again, there is no dust. No white sheets. The picture frame with Jisung’s picture lays whole on the bedside table next to two others. There’s one of just Hyunjin, a different picture than the one they saw before. This time, he’s leaning against the blue siding of the house. A content smile on his face as his eyes are focused on the person on the other side of the camera.

The other picture is one of them together. They’re not in the town, maybe they’re in their old apartment. The two are snuggled on a couch, Hyunjin’s hair is short and a shaggy black while Jisung’s hair is a light brown. They look happy together, both smiling widely at the camera. They look in love.

Changbin is the one standing in front of the group this time, his hand gripping tightly to the baseball bat in his hands. Even if he isn’t physically in this time and place, he wants to make sure that everyone else will be safe.

 _“They’re watching us more,”_ Jisung says softly from where he lays on the bed.

 _“I know,”_ Hyunjin says from where he stands at the window. _“But we’ll be fine.”_

Changbin would almost believe Hyunjin if he wasn’t able to see the tremor in Hyunjin’s hands from where they are balled into fists by his sides. He wonders what the two mean, but he thinks he already knows.

 _“How can you be sure?”_ Jisung asks; turning his gaze onto Hyunjin.

As if he could feel the other’s gaze, Hyunjin turns his face to look at Jisung instead of the quiet and dark street outside. _“I’m not. But you have me. And I’ll protect you,”_ Hyunjin promises.

Something clenches in Changbin’s heart at those words. He lets his gaze find Seungmin’s as he thinks of his own promise to the younger boy. _I’ll always protect you,_ he had told Seungmin one day when the bullying got too bad.

But now he wonders if he’ll be able to keep protecting Seungmin. Or if they’ll end up with this story’s ending too.

.. / ... .- .. -.. / - --- / .-. ..- -. / .- .-- .- -.--

 _“Let’s run away,”_ Jisung had whispered in Hyunjin’s ear.

 _“Give me one more day,”_ Hyunjin had said back, just as quietly. _“One more day and we can leave.”_

They never did get that extra day.

.. / .-- .. ... .... / .. / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. .----. ...- . / .--. .-.. .- -.-- . -.. / ..-. --- .-. / -.-- --- ..- / -- --- .-. .

They are standing in the music room, Jeongin notices. Jisung was right; it was once filled with a multitude of instruments. And yet, he notices that Jisung is curled up in the corner with the guitar sitting on his lap.

“It must be his favorite,” Felix whispers. 

Jeongin nods. He watches as Jisung’s fingers, this time whole and unbroken, absently pick at some of the strings. A door opens behind them, and Jeongin knows what he’s about to hear. 

_“Will you play for me?”_ Hyunjin asks from the doorway.

 _“Not today,”_ Jisung says. 

_“Oh come on. Please?”_ Hyunjin begs, moving further into the room.

The group shuffles over to give him a clear path to walk even if it isn’t necessary. They watch as Hyunjin makes himself comfortable, sitting next to Jisung and resting his head on the younger’s shoulder. _“My fingers hurt too much right now,”_ Jisung says softly.

 _“You never play for me anymore,”_ Hyunjin grumbles.

Jisung laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of Hyunjin’s head. _“I just played for you yesterday.”_

Jeongin watches the content smile spread across Hyunjin’s face. He thinks if humans could purr then Hyunjin probably would be. _“I like hearing you play,”_ the taller says.

 _“And I love you,”_ Jisung says.

The smile on Hyunjin’s face only seems to grow.

.. / .-- .. ... .... / .-- . / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. .----. ...- . / .... .- -.. / -- --- .-. . / - .. -- .

More scenes play out. They tell a story of love. A story of jealousy. They tell a story of an ordinary couple who sometimes dance in their kitchen, who always give each other kisses before bed. They tell a story of a couple that could easily be anyone, but it’s Jisung and Hyunjin.

There’s so many scenes, so much happiness, that when the final scene plays no one is ready for what is about to happen.

But Chan knows something is wrong when they come to and the air is still; much like someone is holding their breath. He knows something is wrong when he can see Jisung pacing at the foot of the staircase, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds.

And then the door bangs open before slamming closed. Someone is hurriedly turning the locks and swearing under their breath. _“Hyunjin?”_ Jisung calls out with a scared voice. _“What is happening?”_

 _“We have to go,”_ Hyunjin says quickly. _“We have to leave now.”_

Hyunjin looks disheveled, his hair in a disarray and not in the normal ponytail. His eyes are wild and his lips pursed tightly. _“Grab what you can now. At least enough clothes to last for a few days. We’ll send your brother to get the rest. Grab the necessities,”_ Hyunjin says, hands holding onto Jisung’s shoulders as he stares in the other’s eyes.

 _“Hyunjin?”_ Jisung asks once more.

 _“They’re coming. We don’t have much time. We need to get out of here,”_ Hyunjin says, already making his way up the stairs. _“I’ll grab your guitar and my papers. Please get everything else.”_

Jisung doesn’t answer, just rushes to the bedroom. Chan wants to follow him, but something keeps him frozen to his spot. The rest of the group doesn’t move either. Something tells Chan that this is the true horror story of the Oak Street house.

He’s right when he hears a window break. In the kitchen he sees a brick laying amongst the broken glass. A warning throw. But Hyunjin and Jisung don’t run to the commotion. They stay where they are, probably throwing everything they can into bags to run easier. 

_“Come out here, or we’ll come in!”_ Someone shouts from outside the house.

Another window breaks, this time a large stone the culprit of the broken glass. Chan jumps, hand automatically curling around Minho’s as the banging on the door starts. _“Come out here now!”_ The voice screams. 

Hyunjin is standing in the middle of the staircase, scared eyes trained on the rattling door. Over his back is a guitar case and in his hands is a bag, probably filled with important documents. Jisung appears from the bedroom, his own hands filled with bags. _“How are we supposed to leave now?”_ He asks Hyunjin frantically.

And Chan can see the fear in Hyunjin’s eyes. Can see the gears turning in his mind. He already knows what Hyunjin’s about to say. _“I’m sorry,”_ he whispers.

Jisung drops what’s in his hands, rushing towards the taller. _“Hyunjin?”_

Hyunjin meets the shorter’s dark eyes with his own watery gaze. _“I’ll distract them. Get out of here. Get in the car and leave. Don’t stop.”_

 _“No,”_ Jisung says in a broken voice. _“I’m not leaving you here.”_

Hyunjin shakes his head. _“Go to your brother. Stay with him, don’t ever come back here.”_

 _“Hyunjin!”_ Jisung says once more. _“You are coming with me. And we’ll both go to my brother.”_

He reaches out for Hyunjin, but the other dodges his hands. _“I need you to be safe, Jisung. I promised you.”_

Chan has to look away when Jisung starts crying. He feels Minho’s warm hand squeeze his own in silent comfort. Even if they could speak, no one dares too. If they don’t speak they can pretend that they aren’t here. Maybe they can pretend that this isn’t real.

But then the door breaks, some of its wood shattering as the locks are ripped out of their places. It’s an angry mob of well dressed men outside. Some are carrying baseball bats, others golf clubs, and some carry nothing at all. The one in front looks to be the most important, and if Chan really thinks about it, he would almost believe that he was once a mayor of this town.

 _“There you are,”_ he spits out.

His gaze is zeroed in on the two boys standing on the staircase. Both crying and frozen in fear as they stare at the men who step into their house. _“You thought you would be fine if you lived here, but you were wrong,”_ he says calmly. _“It’s time you learned a lesson.”_

Jisung and Hyunjin try to run, but the other men are faster. They make it up the stairs and grab the two harshly, dragging them down and towards the door. Towards the man who stands with a twisted smile and a harsh glint in his eye. _“Hyunjin, was it? Maybe you should’ve taken the Lee daughter up on her propositions.”_

Hyunjin snarls, spitting at the foot of the man. _“Never in a million years,”_ he hisses out.

And Chan admires Hyunjin at this moment. Even though he had already accepted his fate before, he refuses to go down without a fight. He’s struggling against those who restrain him, kicking out where he can and trying to headbutt those around him. Anything to free himself.

Jisung does the same, at least until someone takes a baseball bat to his stomach. Then he’s too winded to continue the struggle. If anything though, that only causes Hyunjin to fight more. _“Let him go!”_ He screams. 

The man smiles cruelly. _“I don’t think we will. See, maybe if we get him out of the way we could still save you.”_

Hyunjin shakes his head. _“There is no saving me. I’m not in need of saving,”_ he hisses.

The man shakes his head, motioning to someone again. _“Let’s see about that,”_ he tells Hyunjin.

Chan can only watch in horror as Jisung is hit once more. He can only stare blankly as the bat keeps hitting Jisung’s skin over and over until it’s a mosaic of bruises. He can hear his screams as the bat makes contact with his eye, watch the blood drip from his nose and around the socket as it fills with red. 

He can hear the scream filled with agony as his fingers are broken and smashed. And then, he can hear Hyunjin screaming out Jisung’s name as the bat makes contact with Jisung’s head with a loud crack.

The younger falls still; his body slumping to the side.

Chan chokes on a sob as he realizes what just happened. But it’s nothing compared to the agonized scream that is ripped from Hyunjin’s lips as he pleads for Jisung to be ok. He fights harder, this time breaking free from his captors, who look paler now then they did before. He watches as Hyunjin fights those who surround Jisung until he is cradling the limp and broken body of the boy he loved so deeply. 

His heart breaks when he hears the sobs fall from Hyunjin’s lips. _“No...no...no. You were supposed to be ok,”_ Hyunjin cries out. _“I was supposed to keep you safe.”_

 _“Well, this won’t work,”_ the man says without a hint of remorse. _“That wasn’t supposed to happen, but I guess we’ll have to improvise now.”_

Chan tears his gaze from Hyunjin’s sobbing form to the man again. He watches as the man whispers something into someone’s ear and then his gaze follows that person as he hurriedly makes his way into the kitchen. Chan’s stomach drops when he realizes what else is to come. 

He wishes he could call out to Hyunjin, but he can’t. Instead, he has to watch as someone tears Hyunjin from Jisung and throws him into a nearby wall. He slams loudly against the plaster, his body making an indent from the blow. He’s dazed, but still ready to fight when someone else swings a baseball bat at him. He’s able to dodge it, but he misses the second one that comes from him.

He cries out as the baseball ball shatters his knee cap. Hunched over on the floor panting, he can’t stop any of the other blows from landing. Part of Chan wonders if he really wants to, or if he has given up for now.

“Here,” someone says out of breath.

It’s the same man who had run into the kitchen. Only this time, he comes back out and hands over something to the ring leader. Bile rises in Chan’s throat when he sees the metal glinting in the artificial light. It’s the same knife that they had seen before, only this time clean.

“No,” Minho whispers before hiding his face against Chan’s chest.

Chan drags him closer, before looking around at the rest of the group. Changbin is pale faced, holding Seungmin’s neck into the crook of his neck so that the younger may not see the horror that is about to happen. Both Jeongin and Felix are curled up together, their faces hiding in each other's necks. 

It’s only Changbin and Chan who watch as the man leans down and whispers something to Hyunjin before stabbing him in the stomach. He pulls the knife out before throwing it to the side and walking calmly out of the house. The rest follow him.

Hyunjin coughs wetly, blood already filling his mouth. He weakly drags himself over to Jisung’s body, laying his head on the broken boy’s still chest. _“I’m sorry,”_ Hyunjin barely whispers. 

He coughs again, his breath coming out in shallow pants now. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t have the energy to. Instead, he just stares at Jisung with sad eyes until his last breath.

Chan doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Minho’s hand comes up to wipe his tears. “Channie,” Minho says.

And Chan breaks, sobbing into Minho’s hair as the light blinds them once more.

.. .----. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.--

 _“How could someone do this?”_ A man the group has never seen before says.

He’s sitting on the staircase staring at the door. The door which has been fixed; in fact, everything has been fixed. The house looks much like it did when the group first came in. Furniture is put back in it’s places, the blood cleaned from the floors, and white sheets starting to cover what is left.

 _“Because people are sometimes the worst monsters,”_ another man says as he comes down from the top of the staircase. _“Are we leaving the guitar?”_

The man sitting looks up and zeroes his eyes on the guitar in the other man’s hand. _“Yes,”_ he says.

Felix’s heart feels heavy when he sees the heartbreak in the men's eyes. He wonders if this is the grief that overpowers the house. _“Are we really going to keep this house?”_ The man holding the guitar asks.

A door opens and shuts upstairs, but neither man looks up or acknowledges the noise. Voices whisper before getting quiet once more. And Felix thinks he understands what is happening.

 _“No one else is going to want it,”_ the man sitting down says. _“Not with the history and the…”_ he stops for a second before continuing. _“and the unexpected guests.”_

And it makes sense to Felix now. Why this house is empty, yet why it seems like someone takes care of it. They must take care of this house, or their family does. All because of the occupants who once lived here, and seem to have never left.

 _“We should go,”_ the man with the guitar says. _“I’ll put this back. Why don’t you head outside?”_

The man sitting down nods before standing up and making his way down the stairs. He stops at the door, turning back to stare at the top of the staircase. When Felix follows his gaze he almost gasps.

Hyunjin stands at top with dark eyes and a bloody mouth. He says nothing as he watches the man at the door. But the man smiles at Hyunjin like he’s still there. _“I’m sorry, little brother,”_ the man whispers. 

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything. Just turns his head and watches the other man walk down the staircase and toward the door. The man doesn’t look back once he opens the door and leaves. Not even to see Jisung peeking out behind Hyunjin to watch him leave. 

Felix watches the two look at each other before disappearing all together. His heart breaks, but then the blinding light is back, and this time, Felix knows that was the end of the story.

-... ..- - / .-- . .----. .-.. .-.. / .- .-.. .-- .- -.-- ... / -... . / - --- --. . - .... . .-.

This time when they’re back in the kitchen it’s back in their own time. Seungmin knows this because the counters and floors are dusty and they’re sitting where they were before. He could almost believe what he saw was a dream, but the dried tear tracks on Chan’s face say otherwise. 

“Hello.” Someone says from beside them.

Seungmin doesn’t want to turn his head and look; scared of what he would see, but eventually he feels he has to. Luckily Hyunjin looks much like Jisung did when they first met. His blonde hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail, his clothes clean and his skin clear. His eyes are warm as he looks at the group.

“I’m surprised you guys came in,” Hyunjin says.

Felix is the one to speak up. “We didn’t mean to intrude,” he says.

Hyunjin just laughs. “Can’t really intrude if no one living is here.”

And Seungmin can’t argue with that. No one living is inside of this house. No one living has been inside of this house for years. “Has Jisung found you?” Seungmin asks.

Hyunjin tilts his head. “Jisung? He was looking for me?”

Changbin nods. “Almost frantically. He kept repeating how he needed to find you.”

Hyunjin nods. “He’s the one who disappeared though?”

And Seungmin thinks he understands. Jisung has been outside for weeks. Somehow, without meaning to probably, he left the house and lost the one thing he had wanted for so long. “He’s back now,” Seungmin says. “And he’s been looking for you.”

“Hyunjin!” Someone shouts.

Seungmin turns and is happy to see the Jisung he had grown used to. Smooth golden skin, fading orange hair, and a bright heart shaped smile. “I’ve been looking for you,” he hears Jisung say much quieter than before.

Hyunjin smiles; his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching. He looks almost as joyful as he did in the photograph from before. “I’ve been here the whole time, silly,” the taller says.

Jisung just wraps his arms around Hyunjin. His grip is so tight, Seungmin wonders if he’s trying to mold himself into Hyunjin. “I’m sorry,” the shorter whispers.

Hyunjin softens, moving a hand from where it had previously been placed on Jisung’s waist to instead run his fingers through Jisung’s hair. “Nothing to be sorry about,” he says just as quietly. “Who are the new friends though?”

“Just some people I met when I was outside,” Jisung says. “They’re good people.”

He looks at the group, both eyes a warm brown as he scans everyone’s faces. Then he looks back at Hyunjin. “They helped me find you again.”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “I’ll always be here,” he says.

Seungmin would almost feel like he’s intruding on something, but he’s filled with morbid curiosity as he watches the two interact. He had seen many things from their life; moments of happiness, moments of jealousy, and even their last moments. And yet, here they stand in a house that is no longer theirs filled with so much love for each other.

“What happened?” Jisung and Hyunjin turn to Seungmin after he asks the question. “What happened after?”

Jisung shrugs. “We don’t really know. You’ll have to ask someone else. Time doesn’t work the same for us as it does for you. It feels like yesterday…” he trails off, but Seungmin knows what he was going to say. 

_It feels like we just died yesterday._

“The door’s open now. Sorry for trapping you here, it was not our intention,” Hyunjin says. “But you are free to leave now.”

Chan nods and Seungmin watches as he pushes himself off the floor before helping Minho up. Seungmin allows Changbin to pull him up next and then they watch Jeongin and Felix stand. No one says anything. Seungmin is sure that no one would know what to say.

 _I’m sorry you died in such a horrible way,_ would not be the right thing to say, Seungmin thinks. So it’s probably better to just say silent. He just allows himself to look at Jisung and Hyunjin once more who look to be made of light as they stand in the afternoon sunbeams coming through the windows.

He wonders if they’ll ever be able to find peace, or if they’ll be stuck in this house until the end of time. He wonders if they’ll be forced to remember their death for years on end, and then he wonders if they ever relive it like he did. Do they see the same things that were shown to him?

“Come on,” Changbin whispers as he starts to pull Seungmin toward the open front door.

Seungmin allows himself to follow the older. Maybe some questions are best left unanswered.

.- -. -.. / - .... . / - .-. ..- - .... / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -.-. --- -- . / --- ..- -

There’s a car sitting in the driveway of the old house on Oak Street. It’s the first thing that Chan and the rest of the group notice when they make their way down the sidewalk a few days after, well after everything. The second are the two males leaning against the hood of the car, their eyes glinting in the light as they stare ahead at the sidewalk.

“Chan,” one of the men calls out.

The group stops dead. Chan turns his head to look at the two men he knows he has never seen before in his life. “Who are you?” He asks when they come closer.

They’re tall, definitely taller than anyone else in the group. One has shaggy brown hair, fox like eyes, and a straight nose. His smile is warm though, when he assesses the group. The other has rather large ears, almond shaped eyes, and plump lips that are pursed together. He looks a lot less friendly.

The one with fox eyes answers the group, “I’m Younghyun, and this is Jinyoung. We own the house behind us.”

Everyone gives a stilted nod. “Oh,” Chan says. “We didn’t mean to trespass.”

Jinyoung gives a snort. “Don’t worry about it, kid.”

No one says anything for a long moment. “Jisung said you wondered about what happened after,” Younghyun says. “We can tell you that.”

This startles Chan. “Wait, how?”

“They’re part of the family,” Jinyoung says. “Their technically of our uncles even though we’re now physically older than them.”

“Would you tell us what happened then?” Minho asks.

Chan looks at the silver headed boy to see that his dark gaze is fixed on the house behind the men. He’s staring at the graying door that is firmly shut, and Chan wonders what he is thinking. 

“Sure, but not here. Let’s go somewhere else,” Jinyoung says.

“We can go to my house,” Chan says. “My parents aren’t home and we can all fit in the backyard.”

“Lead the way,” Younghyun says with a wave. 

Minho takes off first followed by the rest of the group. Chan naturally falls last, but not without one more look at the house. He thinks he can see someone moving in one of the upstairs windows, but he doesn’t dwell on it. Just smiles before pushing off and pedaling after the rest of the group.

.- -. -.. / -- .- -.-- -... . / - .... . -. / .-- . .----. .-.. .-.. / -... . / ..-. .-. . .

“I’m sure by now you all know the just of what happened that night,” Younghyun says once they’re sitting in a loose circle on the grass in Chan’s backyard.

Everyone in the group nods as they stare at the older males.

“Well, no one actually knows what happened. The town was very hush on it, and we didn’t find out for years after. The mayor at the time wrote a confession on his deathbed stating what had happened. All we knew was that they were killed,” Younghyun states. “A neighbor found them in the morning after they noticed the windows and doors being broken. They immediately called the police when they saw their bodies, but no real investigations took place.”

“You have to understand that this is a small town, and at that time the police department didn’t care,” Jinyoung cuts in. “They were more worried about what would happen to the whole town if it got out what happened. The only people who knew what happened was the older generation, and they stayed quiet about it for years.”

“So then the brothers were called?” Chan asks quietly, hoping to get the story back on track.

“Yeah. Our great grandfathers were called to take custody of the bodies and arrange the funerals. While fixing the house and cleaning everything, they realized that Hyunjin and Jisung were still there. So they decided to keep the house in the family because they wouldn’t be able to get a buyer, and they didn’t want people disturbing Jisung and Hyunjin again,” Jinyoung tells them.

“It was always their dream to get away from the city and live in a house,” Younghyun muses. “Or at least that’s what we’ve always been told.”

“Where are they buried?” Felix asks quietly.

“A cemetery near the city. We decided to bury them together where they were happy last, and now everyone in the family gets buried there,” Jinyoung says.

“Are they stuck in the house?” Seungmin asks.

Both of them nod. “We’ve tried everything, but there’s something tying them to that place. Maybe it’s the shock of not moving on, maybe it’s the unfulfilled dreams. We don’t know, but we’ve tried talking to them about moving on, but they don't even know why they’re here,” Younghyun states.

And isn’t that the saddest fact of them all? Not being able to move on after death?

And maybe it’s here that a plan starts to form.

\--- .-. / .- - / .-.. . .- ... - / .-- . .----. .-.. .-.. / .- .-.. .-.. / -... . / - --- --. . - .... . .-.

Every town has a story. A local legend to tell others around the campfire when it's your turn for a spooky story, or even a tall tale to tell your kids when you need them to behave. Sometimes these stories spread far and wide. Other times, the only people who know these stories are the ones who live in the town they originate from.

For this town, the local legend revolves around one house. An unassuming, two story house, at the end of Oak Street. It’s been repainted, a baby blue and cleaned, or at least that’s what the locals say. The windows are intact and no longer dusty, and the graying front door is now a shocking white. 

There’s old legends that surround that place. Doors opening by themselves, voices yelling from inside, and sometimes even music being played when no one is around. Most of those legends don’t make sense anymore, but people still tell them.

The new legend is about the history of the house. About a couple who lived there and died there. A love that led to disaster. And while some don’t think it’s real saying it’s just a story to be nice to each other, other’s know all too well that it could be true.

What they do know though is that the house doesn’t stand empty like it did for many long years. Though it’s not always lived in, every summer there is a driveway full of cars and people moving in with multitudes of suitcases. They’re loud and joyful as they make their way up the steps of the house and throw open the door with a loud hello.

Who exactly they’re saying hello to when the whole group pulls up together, no one knows. But sometimes people swear that there are two more people that join that group once they get into the house. Even though absolutely no one lives in that house full time.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!
> 
> I honestly didn't know if I would be able to post this, but I found some time to do so and it made me so happy! Yeah, this kind of gets dark, but I don't know. I was listening to the song my love with never die, and this story just started writing itself.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading this. And if you are feeling sad or want something else to read, then might I recommend my other story [I'm Stuck With a Phobia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26649391) which I also updated today. It's a lot less dark and with a lot less character death than this story.
> 
> Let me know what you thought about it.


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